


Perturbation

by serein (koshitsu_kamira)



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Break Up, Slice of Life, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/serein
Summary: Taeil is a star gone rogue, while Hansol is a traveler exploring the universe.





	Perturbation

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Prompter,
> 
> Frankly speaking, I have been doggedly avoiding fests/exchanges due to personal reasons, but for once I couldn't miss out on this prompt, even when I attempted convincing myself otherwise.
> 
> The past months seem like a great, grueling journey mostly because of unforeseen events which sadly affected the entire creative process. Somehow, I ended up discarding the original draft a month after receiving the prompt and ultimately reworked the entire plot, concept from scratch. Writing has become extremely hard, but also rewarding, a new learning experience on its own.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy reading the story just as much as I had fun writing it!
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _perturbation_ \- (physics) a secondary influence on a system that causes it to deviate slightly

The morning after with Hansol had never been awkward, not even during the the first time they woke up to each other’s disheveled appearance, the half-hearted, pillow-smothered greetings which were perhaps the fifth sentence they might have exchanged since Taeil sat down in a neighbourhood pub, taking careful sips of draught beer, and swayed to live jazz music. He guessed the lack of discomfiture could be attributed to their deficient energy levels at daybreak that caffeine simply wouldn’t improve anymore: by Taeil’s estimate, they probably consumed his body weight in dark brew over a relatively  _ okay _ week, the intake doubling when workplace pressure increased - or maybe they were just too jaded to worry about questionable coping mechanisms. Either way, Hansol didn’t seem very concerned as Taeil blearily asked what his name was, and whether he wanted painkillers -  _ “no, thank you,” _ the other man croaked, nursing a glass of ice cold water, but at least, he accepted the mismatched breakfast items his yawning host had scavenged together from the empty looking fridge, vacuous kitchen cupboards.

They listened to the traffic news afterwards, wordlessly passing the pickled vegetables, odd condiments around the table, falling into an inexplicably familiar rhythm, comfortable like faded sweaters, socks worn threadbare near the soles; “do you need a lift?” Taeil abruptly inserted between a car commercial and the weather forecast, sparing a quick glance in his guest’s direction. Hansol had wide, charming eyes, which almost outshined the other winning features of his face, notwithstanding the slight lavender shadows painted above his cheekbones, “I live a block away,” the man stated, his syllables dragging along, gradually fizzling out within the background noise that constituted the silence Taeil had gotten accustomed to once he became the lone tenant here. “We can leave whenever you’re ready,” he offered meekly, draining the cereal bowl dry before he stood up and quietly gathered, then stacked the dirty plates, utensils in the kitchen sink, Hansol soon joining his efforts, completely at home - later, as they parted ways at the building lobby, Taeil had a fanciful thought of trading phone numbers, except his companion had already slipped through the revolving door.

The flings were Yuta’s interpretation of getting back on track, who remained undeterred by Taeil’s lackluster protests and nonexistent dating experience, insisting that fooling around was basically the express lane for overcoming a breakup; “you should test the waters, see what else is there,” he asserted, gaze flashing, cutting short the litany detailing why this was a terrible idea. Taeil opened and hastily clamped his mouth shut upon spotting the dangerous gleam in the faraway stare his friend sported, a premonition of worse things to come based on their shared college memories: foresight wasn’t among Yuta’s strong suites, thus he often got entangled in tricky situations, like substituting a witness at an impromptu wedding ceremony or bringing home abandoned, shivering animals. Invariably Taeil ended up shouldering the responsibilities, despite the initial resistance he had fruitlessly put up, whereas they all knew he didn’t really mind lending a hand, considering the enormous soft spot he nursed for Yuta just because the younger boy excelled at cajoling him out of the comfort zone he otherwise wouldn’t ever leave.

Barely awake, still, Taeil could vividly envision Yuta’s smug countenance if he had caught wind of the success his dubious advice engendered; forehead wrinkling at the image, a little miffed, he fumbled around the nightstand until the nine minute snooze alarm grew faint, then snuggling back against the warm body swaddled inside the blankets, he inhaled the light musk on Hansol’s damp skin. Honestly speaking, embarrassment wasn’t the main reason why Taeil hadn’t yet confided in Yuta regarding the new  _ friend _ he made during those sketchy trips to bars, nightclubs - god knows, they both possessed enough compromising information respectively to have gotten over the obligatory humiliation years ago - rather, he was afraid of all the possible missteps, the uncertainty he couldn’t quantify. Usually Taeil dealt well with ambivalence, which was a constant aspect of his job at the local university, where he researched investor behaviour and stock market, however, recently he started to believe that his understanding only encompassed the plain theorem, leaving real life applications excluded: beside the ever confident Hansol, he felt akin to a child stumbling hapless in the dark.

Unlike others, Taeil hadn’t needed to fret over relationships throughout early adolescence, high school, college and the turbulent period of settling into adulthood since he was graced by Taeyong’s steady presence, unwavering loyalty, for which he should thank their meddling family members whose zealous interference brought the two withdrawn boys together. At age thirteen, Taeyong was comprised of serrated edges, sharp corners, his stubborn streak miles wide, meanwhile Taeil, hardly a year older, incorporated gentle, sloping panes, convex lines, complementing the pushover tendencies masked beneath an indulgent, good-humored personality people either appreciated or deemed fake, suspecting ulterior motives. Receiving such ambiguous feedback at a particularly delicate phase of puberty had naturally left a lasting effect on the pensive and whimsical Taeil, who gradually adopted a stoic, reticent attitude, the reappearance of his formerly loquacious, bright self a rare, precious event, often coinciding with a certain young man’s presence, his mother noted, smile amused.

In spite of the generally intimidating demeanor and the unnerving monosyllabic answers, Taeyong somehow allowed Taeil to breathe easy, laugh effortless without second-guessing, overthinking each fleeting moment - if anybody had asked, he definitely wouldn’t have been capable of pinpointing neither how, nor why the other boy could transform his mood so drastically. For all he knew, Taeyong was pure, undiluted magic that a bygone deity had forgotten in this strange world, which explained the flowers blooming within his chest as the younger beamed at the silly joke he impulsively blurted just to lift the dreary atmosphere; and revealed the secret behind the glimmering constellations, the thousand galaxies Taeil would see on the dark velvet horizon of his eyes. Before fully recognizing what falling in love entailed, blissfully oblivious, Taeil was already way past innocent crushes and childish infatuation, his friendship with Taeyong gaining traction, a particular, wondrous quality underlying their interactions, shining through the stolen glances, shared chuckles: they were binary stars evolving together, orbiting on a common trajectory.

Bereft of his counterpart, Taeil floundered, utterly alone and off-kilter, struggling to outline a new path amidst the resonant fear that he would eventually yield under the compressing force of gravity, collapse upon himself, then become a black hole, despondence manifested - turning onto his side, sight blinded, he let the July sunlight thaw the sudden frost having crept along his fingers. “Stop fidgeting,” Hansol ordered, drowsy voice sandpaper rough, shredding the grim reverie to tiny pieces, dust motes which danced around the room, “it’s my day off, I deserve more sleep,” he muttered, deftly folding Taeil’s body beneath his pliant limbs, accepting no dissent; “sorry,” the other man whispered, the single word unwieldy, weighed down by the truth he was refusing to acknowledge. “You better,” came the dour reply and Taeil muffled a startled giggle on his exposed shoulder - Hansol seemed to have an incredible knack for saying the most appropriate phrases at the right time, although he had first appeared a tad clumsy, inarticulate: while his diction might have left a lot to be desired, the sheer power of his wry comments amply offset the coarse language.

After a decade of diplomatic eloquence, cautious rhetorics, the candor was refreshing: Taeil appreciated the unapologetic manner Hansol put his opinion across, cut through the excuses, which was occasionally hurtful, much similar to ripping off a bandaid, yet he preferred the momentary pain over the prolonged headache of trying and failing to figure out what had likely gone wrong. Still, regardless the communicational bravado, the younger hadn’t seized any obvious chances to inquire about their relationship status, even when Taeil distinctly clammed up mid-sentence and quickly changed the subject, cheeks flushing an intense crimson underneath the cool white lighting, whereas he nervously waited for the other shoe to drop, gaze averted. Nevertheless, Hansol always stayed mute, radiating infinite patience, his silence speaking volumes that kept Taeil on edge, right above the precipice, wavering: the urge to lay open the entire story rose and ebbed like the tide; some days he could scarcely stop the words tumbling off his tongue, the confession almost choking his breath, other times Taeyong’s name alone would make him blanch.

Despite everything, the younger man was never a rebound, Taeil had ascertained in-between the flurry of dates which slowly began to lose the casual vibes as the focus shifted from instant gratification towards getting properly acquainted - they weren’t in love, he knew, but there wasn’t a rush to fall either; instead, he could linger and savour the way Hansol kissed, fiery throughout the summer, mellow in the winter months. During the autumn he turned a bit quiet, Taeil had noticed, attention redirected on the night sky, the celestial sea holding  _ Aquarius _ and the Southern Fish,  _ Piscis Austrinus _ , he once explained with fervour, before quickly pointing out the brightest star above,  _ Fomalhaut _ , Hansol uttered, sounding awed,  _ “reminds me of you,” _ he added distractedly, tone halting, wistful.  _ “They call it the solitary one,” _ the younger answered the implicit question hovering amid the hushed seconds, gingerly avoiding Taeil’s bewildered stare, and didn’t say anything else for the remainder of the evening; later they left the observatory without exchanging promises or goodbyes, both aware that they had reached crossroads, albeit Hansol carried no burden since the decision wasn’t his to make.

The next morning found Taeil waiting at a quaint, little café tucked within the many alleys of the traditional village Hansol frequented off work, the same place where he previously revealed his childhood dream involving space stations, zero gravity and conquering new planets which lasted until he grew up, the aspiration consumed by the doubts, predicaments life had brought. Nursing a giant cup of tea, absent-minded, he watched the early bird tourists mill around the scenic area, enthusiastically seeking the best angle for commemorative photos, when nostalgia hit Taeil with vengeance: he could practically see Taeyong’s slender form across the street, clutching onto the giant DSLR camera he received upon graduation and used nearly everyday. The walls of their shared apartment used to showcase the countless moments he captured, like a larger than life scrapbook that was an inescapable prison towards the end; Taeil had finally taken down the pictures on an occasion he was absolutely wasted, liquid courage flowing in his veins, overpowering the  _ what if _ s the stillness seemed to echo, amplify.

“Are you alright?” Hansol queried, a rare frown marring his forehead while he set a to-go package on the table, then took a seat beside the window, feet tapping a familiar, placid rhythm against the floorboard, posture serene although he was probably running late for work - “I will be fine,” Taeil chose to respond sincerely because the younger man didn’t deserve a pathetic lie. Hansol traced his face searchingly, making a valiant attempt at identifying the clue that would indicate the reason behind Taeil’s distrait behaviour; “if you say so,” he surmised after a pause, lips pressed along a flat line, dissatisfaction saturating his voice, which the other ignored, allowing the conversation reach a stalemate: the day was too young to start an argument. “Let me give you a ride,” he offered, a furtive apology, even though the gesture was inadequate to defuse the situation and Hansol looked discouraged, ready to admit defeat, yet Taeil was granted a concession in the shape of the younger’s cold hand slipping over his own clammy palm, sticky fingers, “I don’t have the best association to this district,” he confessed hesitantly on the way to the car. 

Hansol’s grip tightened in reaction, a token of reassurance that Taeil may continue or stop talking without negative consequences, “you can choose a place next time,” he promised, eyes going soft, irises glinting aquamarine, seafoam green in the pale sunlight, reminiscent of the ocean at dawn, a mesmerizing sight the older man had been admiring the past seasons. As always, the water surface was undisturbed, a smooth mirror entirely devoid of ripples, yet he could sense the storm brewing beyond the skyline, feel the air crackle on his skin, taste the ozone zip up his sinuses, the brine settling heavy in his throat with each inhale, timidly released exhale which Taeil hoped wouldn’t disturb the steady currents, invite the oncoming downpour closer. Inevitably, he pondered whether the opportunity of another occasion would really stand, if Hansol could outlast the indecision that Taeil had honed through a lifetime, win the waiting game they began playing the very instant their gazes met, an event he was still unable to deem fortunate or rather, ill-fated, albeit he suspected, wished the former was the case - “I’ll count on you,” he mumbled and somehow the cyclone seemed farther away on the horizon.

“We should really get out of bed,” Taeil whispered, mindlessly thumbing Hansol’s plush lips, stare transfixed on the color fading from cranberry red to petal pink underneath his fingertip, “I have plans for us today,” he implored, switching tactics when the other man batted at his anxious hands, glower pronounced, lending him the appearance of a puppy drooping in exhaustion. Momentarily stalled, Taeil idled on the bed, petting the small of Hansol’s back where the blanket had slid off, leaving bare skin exposed to the cool draft the overhead air conditioner unit dispensed, “I’m going to make breakfast,” he announced afterwards, having tucked the younger’s shirt into his pyjama shorts, deliberately letting the elastic waistband snap against soft flesh. Hansol groaned, kicking out in Taeil’s direction who caught the offending foot instead and started tugging hard, towing the comatose man to the very edge of the mattress, “are you awake yet?” he taunted, giving one more yank just to see the other flail, trapped inside the rumpled sheets, “you’re horrible,” retorted his victim, body suspended halfway above the carpeted floor.

Chuckling, Taeil gingerly backed out of the room, then ambled over the fridge to grab the leftover beef stew and pumpkin porridge they prepared together yesterday, following a trip to the local organic market: nowadays, his weekends were reserved for teaching Hansol the childhood dishes the younger man had been craving since the last family visit, probably during his university years. “The librarian profession doesn’t pay too well,” commented Hansol wryly whenever he scanned the flight ticket prices, homesickness having welled up within his ribcage, a deep-seated ache Taeil could only assuage by providing distractions, like dragging the other outside the house to explore suburban districts, new street food stalls around the neighbourhood or the rare stargazing spots. He also included the places which had been avoided regardless of the understanding that he would never bump into old acquaintances there as they all moved to distant cities, remote countries, and were likely to ignore Taeil’s presence even if they crossed path: Taeyong’s friends had already acted resentful prior to the split, hence he suspected the sentiment didn’t change.

The rice cooker had barely turned off when Hansol finally wandered into the kitchen, looking marginally awake, a fuzzy sweater draped askew along his shoulders, reminding Taeil of the bleary eyed students who attended his first period lectures, regret visible across their faces; “good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted, pressing a contrite kiss on the younger’s unhappy pout. Hansol grunted in lieu of a proper reply, curling into Taeil’s side despite the considerable height difference, head nestled beneath the other’s chin, arms wound tight on his waist - intertwined, they stood motionless beside the dining table, savouring the lazy Sunday hush, the chill breeze which blew the gossamer curtains afloat, not unlike the  _ cirrus _ filaments in the sky. Once upon a time, Taeil would have wished he could encase these simple, joyous minutes in precious amber, conserve the viscous delight that trickled down his throat akin to buckwheat honey, its flavour distinct, fragrant, meanwhile part of him drifted in the past, another was stuck on the future, the present wholly forgotten, perhaps what Taeyong meant by saying he “ _ can’t date a ghost anymore _ .”

Taeil had passed countless milestones without ever stopping to contemplate the fine details he might have overlooked, examine the specific turn of events which lead down the road he was treading blindfolded, his companion none better because Taeyong was just as lost, gaze seeing nothing but tomorrow, feet moving relentless in the direction he believed was forward. Straddling two separate timelines, they simply existed, not quite alive, a painful truth Taeyong had deciphered first, breaking out of the stasis that chained their reality together, shedding light on the shadows casted upon the wall - Taeil supposed he owed the younger for taking the necessary steps, however, they both realized forgiveness had a long way to go. After all, Taeil had struggled processing the moral of their story for over a year before he could even deliberate letting himself off the hook: they said  _ “the more you knew, the less you understood” _ and sometimes he wondered if Taeyong had awoken one day, looked at his best friend, yet saw a stranger instead, familiarity crumbling into dust beneath his fingertips.

Rationally, Taeil should have been afraid of the patterns repeating themselves, except Hansol was an explorer whose eyes sought the faintest stars, the veiled, rogue planets in opaque space, therefore he had faith that the younger man could uncover his whereabouts across the universe, the intergalactic void overflowing with dark matter. Hansol would traverse nameless planetary systems merely out of curiosity, sheer determination, his thirst for knowledge inexhaustible which Taeil didn’t want to exploit; so later, while they stared at the planetarium dome, glance roaming the various constellations, the celestial bodies dying, then coming into existence, he retold the whole tale,  _ ab ovo _ , laying the past to rest. Throughout the narrative, Hansol didn’t ask questions, calmly taking the other’s words at face value, and studied the map drawn over interstellar zones, galactic configurations, committing the route into memory until he could follow the line straight home, whereas Taeil quietly mused how the various forces in the universe couldn’t amount to the power of the younger’s steady affection.


End file.
